


Behind Enemy Lines

by SwordDraconis113



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Explicit Language, F/F, For Lost Girl AU Week, High Fantasy, Magic vs Mundane, Mythical Beings & Creatures, War, Witchcraft, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/SwordDraconis113
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken by the Gredithian Valkyrja, Tamsin, Lauren is captured as a prisoner of war. Forced to be their loyal servant and witch, Lauren fights to destroy the one thing that will ensure their victory; a dragon. But she's not alone and as the war rages, Lauren's views on who she should serve begins to shift when the Queen comes with an irresistible offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Battle Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Synergyfox](../users/Synergyfox/pseuds/synergyfox) for betaing, and allowing me to steal her land names
> 
> Important map in case you get lost:
> 
>  

  

A large fireball spun through the air, guided by the strong winds before crashing into the dirt. The force of impact, though yards away, threw Lauren off her feet and into the air. For mere seconds, she was aware of the carnage before slamming into someone. Her body hit first, head smacking against a soldier’s shoulder guard. The impact blinded her vision before she bounced off him, to the battle ground.

People were screaming, burning as she fell back into the mud. She could smell the flesh, thick in the back of her mouth with the scent of blood and gore.

Rolling, Lauren felt a sword swing close to where her arm had been. She fell back, staring up at the storm cracking above, as a man’s boots stumbled over her feet as a soldier drove his weapon through the leather armor, into his belly.

Lauren stared. That man’s sword had been frighteningly close to ending her.

“Witch!” a soldier said, glaring down at her. “You should be in the back line with the archers.”

She pushing up from the well-trodden muck, onto her feet. Her head still pounded from the impact. “The queen sent me forward,” she explained. Repeating herself louder when the winds blew away her voice.

Another fireball flew through the air, crashing just before the main battalion behind her. Shockwave thundered at her feet, through her chest. Damn. They were getting better.

The soldier – because that’s all he was, not a knight, not one of the queens-guard, but a soldier – hoisted her steady and lead her forward behind his shield. Lauren watched as he hacked through an enemy soldier faster than she could throw a spell.

Her abilities lied with focus and manipulation. Creation being the product there-of. She was a battle witch. It layman's terms, she was a healer. Sometimes a destroyer but she’d turned her back on those ways long ago.

“Where’s your patient?”

“The queen sent me forward,” she yelled over the winds. A dark storm was brewing over them. If Lauren had been a betting woman, she’d bet the storm came from the Gredithian mage, rather than an ill-timed weather formation.

“Your patient?” he demanded again.

Across the battlefield, a flare flew up, red and angry before exploding into the clouds. A shockwave thundered louder than the storm, throwing nearby men off their balance. Lauren stumbled back before bouncing into the soldiers shield.

“I’ll take you,” he said to her. “You won’t survive by yourself.”

An opposing soldier came forward, a raven branded onto the front of their armor. Lauren’s soldier wore simple armor, branded only with a red lion on the right shoulder. He was Dellian, allied now with Lauren’s own kingdom, Osmazea. But even their allied forces were barely holding their own against the invading Gredithian kingdom.

They were ruthless.

An axe came down, blocked by the Dellian soldier’s sword. Another Gredithian ran forward at the soldier’s flank and Lauren’s hand flew forward instinctively, twisting the storm winds to fly him backwards into another man’s sword.

When she turned back to her soldier, the man was pulling an axe from his wooden shield. His fingers bleeding heavily where the axe had cut through.

“I can fix that.”

“Save it, you’ll need-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. “Take me to cover and I’ll fix it.”

He swung his sword, killing a man behind Lauren before turning his attention back to her. “There is no cover, witch! This is all you have.”

“So be it.” She grabbed his hand, dropping the shield to the ground as she looked up at him. “Cover me,” she warned.

“I’ll watch your back.”

Lauren grunted, focusing on the wound. She could see the bone underneath, white against. But the manipulation of wind currents had been harder than this. Twisting another person’s magic to her own will was difficult, but healing was easy. She’d studied it for years.

Loose strands of hair rose from the unseeable force, clouding around her. Static shocked from her spine, down her arms, into her hand, before cast onto the soldier’s. The bleeding stopped, muscle growing until the man cried out, shaking under her grasp. “Don’t move,” she hissed. Then, the skin healed until the wound looked years old.

The man fell limp, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“There, all better,” she smiled. The soldier didn’t return the smile, only picked up his shield again tightly, swinging backwards to dive his sword into a man’s throat. The man gasped, eyes wide as the axe dropped from his grip. Pulling his sword free, the Dellian soldier laughed loudly. Lauren shivered at the sound. She didn’t have time to second guess herself. “We need to move there!” she pointed behind the hills, where the flare had been cast.

“Here,” he said, handing her over the axe. “You’ll need it.”

“I do not-”

“You won’t always have magic.”

Lauren nodded.

His hand grasped around her waist, pulling her behind his shield hand. She was tugged into the battle, the next attack came then, three steps forward. One on their flank and one forward. Lauren ducked beneath the wooden shield, swinging the axe into the flank-soldier’s side as her Dellian soldier blocked the forward enemy.

Lauren ripped the axe from his side and swung forward, dodging the flank’s weakly wielded sword. The sword flew from his hands as the axe sliced through his neck, spurting blood onto Lauren’s face and amor.

Rain pelted down as if the collapse of his body awoke the storm. Lauren pulled her axe free and turned to her soldier, only to see a woman grinning, kicking the Dellian backwards and ripping her short sword from his belly.

“You,” she grinned.

Lauren’s hand flicked forward, throwing wind and rain into the Gredithian’s face. She was higher up. Not a soldier. The woman wore scale armor, and her twin swords were masterfully crafted against anything a foot soldier would hold.

Turning to run, Lauren felt the electrical charge before the wind changed direction and blew her off her feet, onto her face. The mud squelched under her weight, blocking her nose from the stench of blood and burning flesh.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the woman said, hovering over her. Lauren heard the sound of a beasts growl before a low crunch could be heard. The clang of weapons lessened as people began fleeing in terror, screaming before a wolf howled, eating them.

She was too late. Turning on her back, she looked up at the woman. “Valkyrja,” Lauren murmured. A large wolf stepped forward to stand beside the Gredithian, his height equal to that of the woman, with a great, powerful jaw covered in blood. It looked down at Lauren curiously, ears twitching.

“Witch,” came the pleased reply from the Valkyrja, pink lips cutting over the title. “You’ll be worth a pretty price.” Her hand, covered in wet blood, came down and grabbed Lauren’s, hoisting her up before Lauren could protest.

The battle witch stared, looking from the dual short swords to the Valkyrja’s face. Magic crackled at her fingertips, before shooting back up her arms painfully. Lauren gasped, doubling over at the sensation. Did she do that?

The woman smiled, baring her teeth. Lauren refused to flinch.

The attack was quick, the woman kicked her belly, throwing Lauren’s backwards onto the ground before she was kicked over. Lauren groaned just as the Valkyrja picked her up and tossed her over the wolf’s back. She tried to move, preparing to drop herself backwards before her own magic seized her limbs.

She felt the woman climb onto the wolf beside her, a bare hand holding her steady on the wolf. Lauren screamed out as a a shock was sent through her spine. Vaguely, Lauren was aware of movement, of a gold flare been thrown into the air, blowing up and sending sparks of magic down into the earth.

Danger, the message read. Fall back.

“Trust me, this is a battle you do not want to be here for.”

The woman lent over Lauren’s body, holding her firm as the wolf leapt over soldiers. She bobbed up and down on the back, the earth falling away before rising close to her face. She could see men and women fleeing from the wolf, horses being guided away. Lauren felt the wolf lunge then heard the unmistakable desperate cry of terror as-

Crunch.

The woman laughed, patting Lauren’s back. “Hear that?”

In the distance, a great, unmistakable roar rang through. Lauren would have flinched if she’d had the ability. Dragons.

“Maelthra’s queen sent us that pretty prize, in return for half the land won and an alliance that no peace treaty could beat. Your people are going to be slaughtered, witch.”

Water spilled down her cheeks as she watched the blur of soldiers, the incoming tents of Gredithian’s army. The beast slowed as the woman sat up and climbed off the beast. Lauren slid backwards, her limbs relaxing as she fell into the mud.

“It’ll wear off,” the woman said. She lifted her up again, pulling Lauren onto her feet.

“Am I…?”

“What, going to die? Maybe,” the woman laughed in her ear, pushing her into a soldier’s arms. “Take her to Alivia, she’ll want to see her.”

The woman turned away then, smirking as Lauren was half-carried by the soldier past the rows and rows of tents, many of which carried the black raven on white sigil. Bannerman stalked past her, eyeing her plain armor. A crane flower should have been branded on her shoulder guard, and if she’d worn her robes, the sigil would be sown over her chest in gold on green material.

However, Lauren deemed even her battle robes impractical. They were light, yes, but easily torn and offering no additional protection. Generally, the mages from the colleges, would keep back with the arches. But Lauren wasn’t a mage hopped up on pixy dust. Her birthright had been witchcraft, she could spindle magic inside of her.

Except, she couldn’t. Lauren gasped, searching for the spark inside of her. She could feel it, it was there, but withheld from her. Lauren stumbled, terrified. The Valkyrja had blocked her gift from her somehow.

That was impossible! It should have been impossible. No, no, no!

The soldier muttered something in Gredithian, laughing at her. “Give it back!” she demanded, “Give me back my-”

A white tent was opened and Lauren was thrown inside before she could understand what happened. On her hands and knees, she looked down to her wrist and saw the cause of her panic. A bracelet. Only metal forged in dragon fire could block magic so well. The craftsmanship needed was so limited on top of the danger, very few were willing to do it, less capable.

The Valkyrja must have snapped it on when she’d been paralyzed.

“Lauren.” Her head snapped up at the voice to see a knight strewn across the ground, beaten beyond recognition and half his armor removed.

“Dyson?”

He coughed, blood spitting out. Lauren moved, before remembering the bracelet. On her knees, she tugged at the metal, twisting and pulled. The runes glowed hot in warning, heating dangerously, the more she pulled. Letting go, the bracelet cooled again as if nothing happened.

“Dyson...I...I can’t,” she said. “I can’t heal you.”

A grunt came, spluttered with a cough before a red smile gleamed at her. Lauren laughed, sniffing before the sound of boot steps on wood caught her attention.

A woman came through, dressed in crimson with long, blonde hair shades darker than Lauren’s own. Hers, however, fell to her waist in soft ringlets. A silver circlet sat on her forehead, marked with a strange pattern.

She spoke quickly, her language foreign to Lauren’s. With a sharp gesture to Dyson, two men came and dragged Dyson away.

“Heal him!” Lauren demanded. “Please, heal him and I’ll do whatever you want.”

The woman looked at her, arching a single eyebrow before she turned to a wooden throne and sat herself upon it. She said something else and men grabbed Lauren lifting her onto her feet before pulling her closer to the woman’s throne.

“Will you heal him?” she asked.

“I may,” she replied. “If you show your worth.”

She murmured a few words to a soldier, Lauren looked to him, watching as he left the tent.

“I sent for my husband,” she informed her at the curious look. “Tamsin is standing guard, so she will come with.”

“Tamsin?”

“The Valkyrja.”

Lauren nodded, swallowing. The woman had a name now. “Will you heal Dyson?”

“If he is alive when my husband dismisses you, Tamsin will you take you to him. She will...watch you heal him. You can do nothing more.”

Lauren sat in silence, staring from the trodden tent floor, to the wall. Blood sat in droplets and soft splatters, but nothing that implied Dyson had been beaten here. Sighing, she closed her eyes and prayed to the Creator of All.

The woman’s husband came, dressed not unlike his soldier. He moved to stand before Lauren, grabbing her jaw, to her displeasure, and looking at her left and right. He murmured something to Alivia, a conversation sparked between them.

“They’re discussing if you’re the one they wanted.”

Lauren turned to see the Valkyrja, Tamsin, standing next to her. Blood had been cleaned from her face and hands, though Lauren could still see splatters over her armor.

“Who else could they want?”

“A halfbreed.”

“Ciara.”

Tamsin nodded.

“You won’t find her. She’s with Bo.”

“Ah yes, we know all about that. She’s the one who sent the flares.”

Alivia looked away from her husband, turning to speak to Tamsin. Tamsin placed a fist over her heart and bowed briefly before grabbing Lauren’s shoulder.

“Tell me where’s we’re going first,” Lauren demanded, resisting the woman’s strength. The Valkyrja sighed and sent a swift kick to Lauren, knocking her backwards. Lauren stared up, stunned as she tried to breathe. The woman came forward and threw her over her shoulder before walking on. Lauren groaned as the shoulder guard dug in to her already tender abdomen.

“Troll whore,” she said as the Valkyrja adjusted her.

“Banshee cunt.”

“Ogre’s bastard.”

“Fury.”

“Dragon dung.”

“That’s just childish,” Tamsin snorted.

“Screw you!” Lauren tried to kick out, struggling before a hand clutched over her leg, sending another, infuriating shock. Lauren’s limbs dropped and she was left dangling over the shoulder, motionless.

“Isn’t the definition of insanity repeating the same thing over again, expecting a different result?” Tamsin laughed, adjusting her, “Don’t worry, witch. This is the beginning of something fun.”

Lauren swayed over the shoulder, eyes lifting up to watch the people walk. Men laughed over their ale, wounds bandaged as they sat on logs. Others held a map between them, discussing plans over a table as a messenger ran between groups. The tents were alive, filled with people as if the battle hadn’t begun last night.

Lauren choked, her mouth shaking as she watched the ease. The scent of waste could be smelt, vivid even with camp fires, but it was as if nothing could affect them. How could they be so callous to their own people dying?

Tamsin dropped Lauren onto the ground, opening up a cage door and shoving her inside.

“There,” she said, unlocking the bracelet. “Heal your fallen soldier.”

Lauren turned, confused before spotting the heap. Dyson, she realised. Rushing forward on her hands and knees, she grabbed at him. Her fingers unclasped the armor, pulling it away piece by piece until she could find the wounds.

“Dyson?” She listened for breathing, relieved when she found it. Shallow, but existanting. She could do the rest.

Lauren’s eyes ran over the length of his mostly bare body. He had internal bleeding, broken ribs and dark bruises. Slashes where different weapons had hit him, grazes where shields had crushed his armor. He shouldn’t be alive.

“You’re lucky,” she murmured, hand spreading flat over the major injuries. “If you weren’t a shifter…” She didn’t think on the rest.

Her eyes shut, head rolling back as she breathed in. The air hissed around her.

Emerald spindled in her mind, glowing and crackling like lighting. It gushed forward like a river, spreading from her hands and tearing down through Dyson’s being.

The shifter cried out, awakening with a large gasp. Lauren pushed, struggling to hold him down as she tore through his skin, searing his wounds before sewing up the veins the best she could. He was low on blood, but Dyson breathed, bringing oxygen into his blood, pounded through with a strong heart. It was easy enough to add blood, create and flow it through his veins now the wounds were healing.

Dyson slipped back into unconsciousness as Lauren snapped bones into place, sealing them the best she could as her the magic depleted inside of her.

Her lungs burned, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Lauren fell back, falling unconscious against something soft as the last of her energy disappeared.

Somewhere, a soldier died to save Dyson. She just hoped they weren’t important.


	2. Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara's on recon when she sees it

Ciara remained still in the tree, the spear gripped tightly as she peered through the pine leaves. Below her, Gredithian soldiers chattered adamantly in their mother tongue, guarding a large wagon. The wagon seemed to be carrying a caged animal at first. Leaves blocked the view, but when the wagon was directly below her, Ciara nearly fell out of the tree. 

Blinking disbelieving at what she saw, she watched as the wagon was lead up a dirt road on an incline. How in the world had they managed to capture a _dragon_? 

The creature was the size of a horse with grey and white scales, two great wings folded over its body and trapped within the confines of the metal cage. The Gredithians had collared and drugged it into a deep asleep, though how they managed to do that, Ciara had no clue. Dragon fire had been known to melt stone, but perhaps it was too young for such force. 

The dragon lulled against the rocky path, its cage, lead by six horses and over twenty Gredithian soldiers, rocked in the wagon, tied down with rope. Ciara wondered then why so many men were needed to guard the dragon. Surely such a number would draw attention, as it had for her. 

Perhaps the men had other duties. 

Ciara shivered, pressing tighter against the bough, unable to look away from the dragon incase it woke up and devoured her. 

The men were pulling the dragon up through an old road that would come up behind the back forest. If they managed to get the dragon through that, they could essentially come up behind both the Dellian and Osmazian army with an unbeatable, heavily armored, flying weapon. 

It would take weeks for such a move, but a dragon on the opposing side of the battlefield would certainly put the odds in their favor. 

Ciara had to get back to camp and warn them. 

Quietly, she moved back into the tree, waiting until they’d traveled past. Time slowed as she waited for the chatter to cease and the sound of hoof steps to disappear. She gave a last look to check that they were too far away for her to see before climbing down, dropping from the last branch onto the grass, her spear beside her. 

Before she could return to camp, she had to meet up with Bo. She too, was scouting the area, looking for anything that could shift the war to their favor. There were at least five other scouts, spread out through the areas. 

Ciara believed that some of the other scouts may have doubled up, but it was impossible to know. She knew Dyson preferred to be by himself, but Ciara rather enjoyed having a check point. On foot, they were a few days travel from camp, too far to continue back and forth with little information. It was comforting to have someone to meet up with and discuss what they’d found. 

The battlefield was set over a large expanse, surrounded by hills. Further back to the West sat a mountain notoriously known to be dragon nesting grounds. The meeting place sat over enemy lines, Southwest and a day’s travel from where the Gredithians made camp. 

Bo had carved out the area with magic, her strength lying with raw power, whereas Ciara had more knowledge and skills in illusions, helping to hide the makeshift cave with a deception shield, lest anyone find it. 

She’d marked it with sunbelle flowers for herself and Bo, a golden flower in the shape of bells occasionally found in Dellian areas such as this. They were a harvest flower, beautiful in her opinion. Lauren may have more talent with creation, but Ciara had years of practice and a boost of fairy dust. 

It was why she’d been chosen for this. Hale, an old friend recently turned sovereign, had requested her assistance when his kingdom had been forced into war. They needed all the help they could get, and Ciara’s kingdom needed gold, something the Osmazians could easily spare. 

Bo, she’d surmised, having known her for half a year before the war, had been chosen for her raw strength. What she lacked in skill, she more than made up for in talent. Ciara was only mildly jealous. 

Walking past the sunbelles, she dropped into the cave. The shield in place pushed against her, warding her out before she slipped through, her ears popping as she stepped inside. 

“Ciara!” Bo’s sword fell slack in her grip. With her other hand over her heart, Bo sheathed the weapon back on her hip. “You nearly scared the daylight out of me!” 

Grinning, Ciara placed her spear against the wall. The cave had been made tall enough that they could both sit easily, but Ciara had to bow her head when she was standing up straight. She found it claustrophobic. As safe as the area was now, they could easily be pinned down if the Gredithians found them. 

“Did you find out anything?” Bo asked, hopeful as she handed over the skin of water. 

Ciara took the drink, nodding. “Dragon,” she said, taking a swig. “The size of a good horse.” 

Bo laughed, setting herself down beside a red enchanted flame encased within a glass jar. “Right, well I didn’t find much either. There’s poison to the North, though. I signaled-” 

“I’m serious,” Ciara pushed. “I _assume_ it’s a fire breather, but it could just as easily be an ice dragon. They appeared to have it drugged to keep it docile, but I wouldn’t want to stand near it when it wakes. There’s at least twenty soldiers guarding it. Two of them were dressed differently to the rest, I couldn’t see their crest and they weren’t carrying banners.” 

Bo‘s expression slacked before she scrambled to stand up. “We have to get back to camp. We have to tell the others.” She moved to leave. Ciara’s hand reached out, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around to face her. 

“I’ll go. You stay on reconnaissance.” 

“Can’t. Area’s flagged. Right-regiment got hit with a noxious gas. Lauren should be there now to clear it up. I managed to shift the winds north momentarily, but I doubt-” 

“That’s not your storm over there?” 

“That’s not my storm,” Bo nodded. “I don’t know whose it is, but they’d be up high. I was tempted to think of you.” 

“Fairies don’t do storm,” Ciara smiled. Weather manipulation was out of her league. Out of most people’s league for anything that big. Unless there was a team. If so, they would need six witches or warlocks of adequate power, or twenty mages who could work in sync. “What’s the plan?” 

“We return to camp, tell them about the dragon and wait for orders.” 

Ciara shook her head. “Bad idea. _You_ stay here, continue recon of the area and I’ll return to camp.” 

“No. _We_ return to camp and wait for orders. What if we’re needed for their plan?” 

“You’re right,” Ciara nodded, “you'll be needed. I’ll follow the dragon, that way when you need its location, I can signal. Perhaps I’ll do some sabotage so you won’t take all the glory.” 

Bo’s head shook violently. “This is a bad idea. If you get caught-” 

“I won’t get caught. I’m far better at hiding than you are.” Bo smiled at the jest halfheartedly, her shoulders sagging. “I’ll be fine Bo. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” 

“Dragon fire is dangerous to magical beings,” she argued softly. “What if-” 

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated again. Lifting her hands to the Bo’s arms, she squeezed gently. “I’ve been doing this far longer than you. Besides, they’ll need you. You’re their secret weapon.” 

“They need you, too.” 

“They need me tracking. But they need _you_ as their elven weapon.” Turning away, she picked up her spear and looked over her shoulder. “Take care, Bo. When we meet up next we’ll exchange notches.” 

“You’re leaving now?” 

“It’s best I catch up to them soon. You don’t dance around with dragons,” she smiled sadly, wishing she could curl in the cave and sleep. “I’ll be fine.” 

“But you weren’t leaving before!” 

Ciara sighed, looking over her shoulder. “No, I was planning to return to camp, but plans change.” She shrugged, feeling her stomach drop as Bo’s face fell. “You should leave soon, too. They’ll need to know.” 

Bo rushed forward, taking Ciara’s face into her hands before she kissed her. It was soft, gentle and over before the fairy could respond. “Come back safely,” Bo whispered. 

“You elves are _so_ touchy-feely.” Ciara smiled, brushing a hand over Bo’s hair. She’d braided it back one night, as they spoke of home. Home had been a farm for Bo, the woods for her. Home was warless now. “I will do my best. As will you.” 

“This war won’t end well.” 

“It never does.” 

Ciara grabbed her knapsack off the ground, handing over Bo’s skin of water before giving a last, weary smile. Taking a breath, she slipped out of the cave pocket, back onto the grass land. 

Outside, the storm had dispersed, leaving the sky exposed to a setting sun over the Dellian hills. The red light casted long shadows over the ground, making the trees look tall and dark. 

Ciara moved forward, looking over to where she’d seen the dragon a league away, and the soldiers climbing over the back hills. She’d bet her best jewelry that they’d stick close to the mountain before curling around, behind the aligned armies. 

An arrow flew past her ear, burying into the hill. Ciara gasped, looking to it. Another arrow came and Ciara disappeared, moments before it hit her, with a gust of magic before reappearing behind a low tree. Her head spun from the fairy dust, eyes wide open. 

She was a few yards away from the cave pocket, back against the tree. Peering around, she quickly looked to the tree line, searching for a target. Nothing, she pressed against the tree again, spear in grip. “Bo,” she yelled, “the enemy’s here. Don’t come out, just stay hidden. I’ll fight them off.” 

If it was reconnaissance, they wouldn’t have made themselves known. Would they? Sabotages maybe? Could be back-tail guards, looking for anyone who followed behind. Like her. 

Dropping her knapsack onto the ground, she ran forward, heading for a second tree a brief stretch away. Her eyes searching for targets as another arrow whizzed past. She rolled, dodging before safely guarding herself low against the pine tree. 

She steadied, adjusting her grip on the spear as she estimated where the archer was. She’d seen them this time. Another arrow came past, grazing her exposed shoulder before Ciara threw the spear. A woman’s voice cried out, falling backwards and out of the tree. Relief at the hit flushed through her system before she sprinted forward. 

Magic rushed through her, before she disappeared, reappearing above the archer. Ripping out the spear, Ciara aimed it over the heart and rammed it into the chest– an arrow hit her. 

Ciara gasped. Her eyes looked to her shoulder to where the arrow struck. Pain spread from the area, hot and violent. Her hands clutched at the spear, driving it down for support as she bowed over the dead woman. 

How-? 

She slid just as another arrow flew past, hitting the tree. Her hand grasped to where the arrow was embedded in her shoulder, digging into muscle. She hoped it missed her artery. 

Ciara tripped backwards, her other shoulder smacking against the tree’s trunk before her knees hit the grass. The spear slipped from her grasp, impaled in the corpse. Ciara stared at it as blood tricked down her back, hot and thick. _Bollocks._

Behind her, she could hear Bo’s voice yell out before gravity began to tilt her body sideways. Ciara blinked slowly, feeling her head hit the tree as her hand grabbed at the wound. It’d hadn’t come through. The arrow was still inside of her. She’d beat the archer dead, if she could just _breathe_. 

Dully Ciara was aware of the iron poisoning slipping through her veins from the arrowhead. Had they known? She wondered as her heart continued to pound poison through her. Each beat pushing it further and further through her system. Or had it been purely coincidental? 

Eyes peeling open, she watched another arrow fly past, burying into the bark. Her eyes closed heavily, when she opened them again, Bo’s sword was stuck out of the other archer’s back crudely, as Bo used her dagger to gut the person. 

“Ciara!” 

Her eyes shut again. 

Pain awoke her in darkness, her body arching as she was held still. Her throat cut off, a scream dead as the wood pushed in her shoulder. She felt arrowhead snap off before a hand slipped over the wound. 

“I’m sorry…I’m not...I’m no…” 

The words disappeared as fire burnt her wound. Ciara screamed. 


	3. The Ravens, the Lions and the Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This one,” she said, her nails tapping the flat bottom, “Represents the Gredithians. I haven yet to meet one that wasn’t a scavenger. It’s probably why they carry the creature on their banners. This one,” she touched the monkey’s head, smiling at Hale, “is you. I think it’s obvious as to why.”

Hale bent over the strategy map. The wooden figurines that were meant to represent the Gredithian army had been carved in the shape of fat ravens. Hale  
barely offered them more than a disgruntled look. Ravens _were_ part of the Gredithian sigil. It was the _monkeys_ that bothered him. He  
picked one up, looking over the crude statue as he tried to understand what would possess her to give such a childish jest.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked, turning to face his ally. 

Queen Evony, of the Dellian Kingdom, merely laughed. “Of course it’s a joke, don’t you see, dear?” She sauntered over, bending over to pick up a fat raven. “This one,” she said, her nails tapping the flat bottom, “Represents the Gredithians. I haven yet to meet one that wasn’t a scavenger. It’s probably why they carry the creature on their banners. This one,” she touched the monkey’s head, smiling at Hale, “is you. I think it’s obvious as to why.” 

“Our sigil is-” 

“The _darling_ crane flower, yes yes, very interesting. Doesn’t make a for a good figurine though, does it? If I wanted to cover my table with flowers I would have brought bersintian roses.” 

“So you thought a monkey was more attractive?” 

“Well you are little monkeys, aren’t you? All dancing to my battle tune,” she hummed, pleased before picking up her own. A carved lion. “Besides, monkeys are far more clever than people give them credit for. A lion could still devourer them, and a raven will always peck at it’s corpse, but all the same,” she smiled, placing the lion back onto the map. “I think you’re missing the point.” 

“It’s racist.” 

“How is it racist?” 

“You have _monkeys_ representing _my_ kingdom.” 

“Your army, dear. Not your people. And your army _is_ a bunch of monkeys.” She turned around, looking to the two soldiers standing by the door. “Your little wolf hasn’t checked in, I noticed. He’s been missing for a while now. Best to assume dead or captured.” 

“He’s been missing for a day, not a week. Assume _delayed_ ,” Hale pressed. Placing his hands onto the table, he bent over, muttering about Evony’s harshness as he resisted the urge to throttle her. 

Evony took little mind of him, her eyes were on the map, scheming some horrible plan. Probably something bloody. 

“Bo checked in,” he said, over his shoulder. Evony snorted. 

“She sent a flare signaling your witch. Knocked twelve soldiers off their feet, too. I, of course, already had Lauren on the battlefield. It would have been a shame if she’d been stuck with the arches and one of your lesser _mages_ was forced to deal with whatever the issue is.” Hale looked to the queen, noting that she sounded impressed over Lauren. “Do you know _why_ she sent for your witch?” 

“The flare is two days away on a hard ride.” 

“On one of _your_ horses, yes. Your point?” 

“She sent it this morning.” 

“And the message came this evening from one of the pigeons. I still don’t understand your point.” 

Hale glared. The woman was teasing him. Turning away from her, he adjusted the wooden figurines and looked over the battle plan. One of Evony’s scouts had arrived earlier with new information, informing them of a battalion coming in from the seas. He’d ridden on horseback for a week with a broken collarbone to deliver the message. Apparently the battalion was made up of young, fresh of age soldiers, ready for battle. 

Hale didn’t think they were a threat, but Evony hadn’t moved from the tent since she’d heard. 

Looking at her now, he could see her brow creased as she looked vaguely to the tent’s opening. Her dark hair had been pulled back from her face, and her dress was a simple purple garment, made from loose material rather than something more extravagant. 

The first time he’d met Evony, when the Old King had reigned, she’d been elaborately dressed, her hair designed in coils and braids with a silver circlet. She’d worn a dress that carried more jewels than his kingdom could afford. Della, however, was a wealthy country due it’s mines and could easily afford such things without the people rioting. Evony traded dust with fae, in turn, she received wealth and power beyond his understanding. 

If she toppled in this war, more than her kingdom would fall. 

“Move the Southern regiment to mountain side, behind the West,” she decided. “They can march at night. The West will bring the Gredithians through the mountains, from there the Southern can attack.” 

“They won’t fall for that,” Hale said. “They’ll see us march.” 

Evony scowled, turning to look at the map. “Where’s my advisor?” 

“He died. His throat was slit.” 

“Oh yes,” she smiled then, slow and hungrily. Hale wondered not for the first time, if she’d killed her advisor. But he didn’t ask. Evony had more than once warned him not to trust her, it was one of the few advices he’d listened to. 

He looked to her now, watching as Evony leant over the map, her hands sprawled out on the tables edge as she glared down at the table. “What would you do?” 

“I would-” 

“No, not _you_ ,” she glared, “ _You_.” 

Hale looked to his right. A soldier floundered, his mouth falling open at the question asked. “Me?” he managed. 

“Is there someone behind you?” she mocked. 

There was nothing but a tent and the soldier had the intelligence not to look back. If he had, Hale wasn’t sure if Evony would have killed him or humiliated him. Both, probably. 

Moving forward, the soldier coughed into a fist, clearing his throat as he stepped to the other side of the map. On his shoulder was a branded lion, telling Hale that he was one of Evony’s own foot soldiers. Soldiers higher up in the ranks wore the crest on their chest, knights wore plated or scale armor, rather than leather. Few, but some wore chainmail. 

“Here,” she said, stepping to the left, “stand beside me so you can see the map from ur point of view.” 

The soldier managed not to shake as he stepped forward and moved beside her. He looked at the map, brow furrowing beneath a dark fringe of hair. 

Hale rolled his eyes, looking to the door soldiers. The two men held placid expressions, unsurprised by the event and uncaring towards their comrade. 

When he looked back to the strategy map, the soldier had picked up a monkey and moved it beside a lion. He mumbled something about having the two armies spread out from there, but stopped in the middle of speaking, his throat catching before gargling on his words. 

Hale’s eyes shot to the man as blood pooled and spat from his mouth, his hands clutching at his own weapon, before he fell to the ground. A decorated dagger, designed with gold vines around the handle, stuck out from the back of his neck, through his spine. 

Evony picked up the monkey and placed it back where it’d been earlier. 

“Was there a reason you killed him?” 

“Yes,” she replied. 

“And?” Hale pushed, growing frustrated with her. He didn’t know the man but he wasn’t so callous a sovereign to kill a person because they weren’t good enough in strategy. He had been a soldier, in his mid-twenties at most. No doubt, this was his first war. Some sympathy wouldn’t have killed her. 

“I didn’t like him.” 

Hale snapped at the comment, “What the fuck, Evony, you can’t just go around-” 

“Your grace,” she corrected. 

“What?” 

“Not Evony, your grace is the appropriate address.” 

“We’re of the same rank, I-!” 

“Oh honey, no. We are _not_ of the same rank. You may be the king of your little land, but let’s be honest here. If I wanted to own your attractive ass, I would and you are very aware of that; which is why you’re here.” Hale’s jaw clenched. Evony laughed at him. “You know if _I_ fall, you fall and all the lands that need me for trade, need the fae to survive, will fall as well.” She turned away then, looking to the war map. 

Hale took a breath, pinching his brow as he tried to remember the lyrics to an old lullaby. Evony made his blood boil, sharing the same space as her was enough to make him scream in frustration. 

“Why did you kill him?” he tried again. 

“I told you, I didn’t like him.” 

“You can’t just kill people because you don’t like them.” 

Evony rose her eyes to his, “Oh?” she mocked. “Well I seem to have been annoyed, and now he seems to be dead. I think I can do what I like.” Turning back to the map, she moved a lion backwards, behind the hills. “Besides, that idiot couldn’t even spy for his worth. Did he really think I wouldn’t notice a raven flying into my country?” She shook her head, glaring at the figurines. “Not even worth buying onto my side. I don’t know what they were thinking, sending him.” 

Hale’s eyes widened, looking to the man. “He’s Gredithian?” 

“Maelthra, going by his enunciation. Not that it matters.” She sighed, looking down at the body. She leaned down, ripping the dagger free and cleaning it on a silk handkerchief. “Well?” she asked, her eyes turning to the door soldiers and gesturing to the body with the red splattered handkerchief. “Get rid of him before he stains the floor. String him up so any other spy can see what happens when I catch them. That should scare the weak off.” 

Hale watched as the soldiers dragged him away, a red stain left on the floor where his body had laid. On the map, Evony wiped at a particular large, red droplet, shaking it off her fingers with disgust. He watched quietly, unable to process what happened. 

Evony may come off as playful and temperamental, but there were days he became aware that the extent of her intelligence was far grander than she let on. 

“Did you read any of the ravens?” he asked as she began moving the wooden pieces around. 

“Nothing of interest. Just battle plans. I would have continued to mislead them, but the last raven they sent implied that they were aware he’d been caught. They probably found the soldiers I sent into the forest a fortnight ago.” 

Hale looked down at the map. Now, it showed an entirely different battle plan laid out than before. “What the-?” 

“You think I’d allow a spy in my tent with _my_ battle plans?” she scoffed. “You are so naive, sometimes.” 

“You didn’t think to tell me that there was a spy? Allowed me to waste my time working out a battle plan from _this_.” He waved a hand over the map, glaring at Evony viscously. But she was unaffected by the anger, busy moving pieces around as if he hadn’t said a word. “Well, _your grace_?” 

“Theres no need to get childish, Hale. Grow up and learn that you’ll never be my equal in the battlefield. I’ll never trust you or anyone else.” She smiled then, looking him over. “You’re quite charming when you’re angry.” 

“Don’t.” 

She shrugged her shoulders, still smiling as she folded her hands and placed her chin on top, apparently finished with setting out the _real_ strategy map. “Any ideas now?” 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the centre of the map. A new, wooden idol sat on the table, made of a darker wood than the other figures. Two red jewels sat in the figures eyes, giving Hale a bad feeling that crawled down his neck. The wood had be carved like smoke with a hidden figure. Dark and terrible. 

“Now that the tiresome spy’s gone, perhaps I will tell you of my plan.” 

Hale looked to her, Evony had a well crafted mask that made her appear innocent, but Hale knew that there was nothing more suspicious than Evony smiling. “You make it sound as if you weren’t going to tell me.” 

“I wasn’t,” she admitted easily. Her fingers reached forward, adjusting the centre idol so the ruby eyes faced her. “You’re naive. You believe the lands can be united in peace if we try hard enough. You _want_ to believe that this is the last war we’ll enter and that less people will die. The true is, people are always going to die, war will always happen, and if you’re stupid enough to believe you can change that, you won’t last long on the throne.” 

Hale flinched, mouth twisting in disgust. “So I should become like you?” 

“If you want to survive,” Evony nodded. “People are always going to spy, Hale. They’ll seduce their way into your bed, your heart. They’ll charm you into believing that _you_ are the one for them, or that they value your friendship. But people can be bought, they can lie and trick better than you and until you learn to see that, death will always be a single misstep away.” 

Hale dropped his head, looking away. “I didn’t come here for advice.” 

“No, you didn’t, did you? You came here to win a war against an invading army.” Sighing, Evony walked away. She wanted to play with him, make him angry again, but he wouldn’t play her game any longer. The best course of action was to step away until she grew bored. “That,” she pointed to the idol, “is what I have the dwarves digging.” 

“You have dwarves?” 

“Who do you think are in my mines? You think I would be as stupid as Maelthran _’s queen_ and use prisoners _?_ Idiot, bitch. I look forward to bedding her, then killing her with her own knife.” Evony’s eyes shut, a look of content passing over her face before her eyes flashed open. “All my mines are closed until the war ends, of course.” 

“And the fae?” 

“They can look elsewhere for now, I said as much to the queen. Or whatever their monarchy is.” She waved a hand, dismissing the trivial matter. 

Hale sighed. “What are digging?” 

“A tunnel,” Evony grinned. 

“A tunnel for what?” 

“You’ll see. Did you ever wonder why I had no witches on the battle field. Sure, they come in short supply, even less are aware of their potential, but of all the kingdoms, you would think that _I_ would stock up on as many as possible, wouldn’t you?” 

Hale’s stepped away, looking to the map as he began to understand. “You won’t have any after this.” 

“No. I won’t. But it will be over and I would have won. So sorry for your dear battle witch. I’m sure she was just _lovely_. Your Old King stole her, didn’t he? Made her realize her potential. I wonder, did you ever let her know that you were the reason Nadia died? Well, don’t fear now. Your secret’s safe now that she’ll be soon dead.” 

Hale scowled, turning away with disgust. He should never have helped her. 


	4. Blood Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren argues the beliefs of foreign cultures

Lauren awoke to the color brown and mumbling. Blinking, she found the brown shaped into a wooden pendant, an odd circle with three points. Her eyes focused on the design, wondering what it meant. One of the points directed north, a white bead sad between the triangular-point and the circle. A second pointed southeast, the same length as the first, with a green bead. The third was a longer triangle, pointing southwest with a blue bead. 

“What-?” 

The priestess opened her eyes, smiling down at Lauren. She spoke something in Gredithian, low with a warm voice before rising too her feet. Red hair slipped from the brown hood she wore, showing a braid twisted with twine, beads and feathers. The priestess gave a low nod, placing the wooden necklace she’d held over Lauren’s face down onto the battle witch’s chest before leaving. 

“She sends her blessings,” Tamsin said. Lauren turned to look at her in the corner of the tent, lying back in a wooden chair. The Valkyrja looked tired, her brow furrowed as she watched the priestess leave. “‘Blessings’ is a loose translation, however. There isn’t a word in your language for what she sent.” 

“What did she say?” 

“Something similar to ‘may the Gods honor your favor’. You died for a moment, used up all your strength to save the damned wolf. Alivia was less than impressed. You nearly-” Tamsin looked furious, but it washed away with a sigh. “A healer gave you a ‘life line’. You came back. She believes you gave the Gods a favor of some kind. A lock of hair or magic. The necklace is supposed to carry your remainder life.” 

Lauren looked at the wood, picking it up from where the priestess had laid it. Shutting her eyes, she opened them again. She felt Tamsin flinch as her iris’ became stained violet with second sight. 

The necklace _was_ enchanted, but nothing that could cause her harm. A simple preservation spell, nothing more. She smiled, looking to the Valkyrja and nearly falling away in horror at the expression looking back. 

“What do you see, witch?” 

She blinked again, removing second sight. “You’re true face.” 

Tamsin smiled, shaking her head. “‘True face’ is a cruel way to put it. You don’t see me going around talking about what people look. You’re as horrifying when you’re…” 

“In second sight?” 

“When you’re doing magic.” Tamsin shifted awkwardly, shaking something off. “What ever you want to call it.” 

Placing the necklace on, Lauren fiddled with pendant. “I...I remember healing Dyson,” she said, looking back to the Valkyrja. “I don’t remember dying.” 

“You never do.” Tamsin smiled. “Your pet wolf’s fine, by the way. Furious when you died. He had the great idea that _I_ had something to do with it,” she scoffed, standing up from her chair. “No matter, now you’re awake and able to perform magic, you are needed. Get up.” 

“I just performed a powerful spell.” 

Tamsin laughed. “You did that three days ago, more than enough time to gain it back.” She grabbed Lauren’s arm, hoisting her onto her feet. Lauren pushed away, falling back to the ground with a sharp glare. “There are two ways we can do this, witch. I don’t have time for your stubbornness.” 

“I’ll walk,” Lauren glared. She didn’t need to be thrown over a shoulder again. 

“Good.” Tamsin lead her across the tents in a strong stride, weaving around. Lauren watched the people. Their eyes moved to herself, to Tamsin before adverting. She wondered if they were afraid of meeting the Valkyrja’s eyes, or if they knew she held important business. “Keep up, we don’t have time for you to hesitate.” 

Further on, as the tents clustered together, music could be heard. It thrummed through the earth, beating up Lauren’s spines. She could drums, loud and low against the hits of wooden sticks beating together. In time to the music, vocals could be heard from both men and women in a passionate chant. 

Lauren peered through the cluster of the tents, compelled to see even a glimpses of the ritual. Pushing forward, hungry for the sounds, she found people dancing around a fire, bare of clothes and dressed with blue body paint. Wooden and silver jewelry covered their bodies; their hair wound with twine, beads and feathers, similar to the priestess Lauren met. Some of the men had braided their beards as the same. 

“They’re doing magic,” she whispered, stepping closer. Her eyes caught the blue of a beautiful woman with red hair, her arms were raised, praising the skies as she sung before coming closer. Lauren’s heart beat, the urge to join them… 

Her eyes fluttered, reaching forward to the woman’s grip. 

“Come on,” Tamsin said, grabbing her. Lauren was pulled away with sharp tug. The redheaded woman smiled at Lauren and turned her back, returning to the ritual. 

“What happened?” 

“Compulsion. Their energy draws you in. Well,” she smiled sardonically, “ _you_ would call it enchantment.” 

“Enchantment,” she murmured, still dazed. “They’re beautiful.” 

Tamsin chuckled. “They’ll take you as a blood sacrifice if you’re not careful. Come on, we need to-” 

Lauren blinked, snapping out of the compulsion as she was lead away. “A _sacrifice_? How barbaric.” 

Tamsin’s jaw clenched dangerous, the humor disappearing. At the change, Lauren flushed as she realized her mistake. Her own people had something different, but it wasn’t _sacrifice_. They traded life, stole essence. When one person lived, another person died of seemingly natural causes. It was as though the sands of life were taken from one person to another. 

But slaughtering someone in blood magic was a forbidden practice. Those who were caught doing such magic were executed. Beheaded usually. Their body then salted and burned into ash. 

“Why do they do that? It’s savage! Horrible!” 

“What you call magic, they call divine intervention. ‘Blessings’ of the Gods they’ve appeased. And their sacrifices are willing, unlike your own.” 

“But there’s no such thing as divine intervention.” 

“Who are you to say there’s not,” Tamsin glared. “Do you know this world and its creation, or are you only repeating what’s been told by others? 

“That’s not the point. I _know_. I can _feel_ magic, see it, I can’t do that with a god.” 

“I don’t have time for this,” Tamsin breathed out. “They know magic as divine powers. It’s a different name for the same thing.” She pulled her further away from the ritual, leading her hard. Lauren stumbled before ripping herself from Tamsin’s grip, eyeing the woman unhappily. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“You’re taking up valuable time with unnecessary, rude questions.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s ridiculous to believe that ‘Gods’ are granting abilities. There are no Gods. Only the fae. And they’re hardly one to share their magic without a price. It’s not fair to allow people to continue believing lies.” 

Tamsin arched an eyebrow, “and yet you believe your Queen to be true?” Lauren looked away. That was different. 

“Here,” the Valkyrja directed, shoving her forward. “This is where you are needed.” 

Lauren stepped into the tent again. The first thing she noticed was the abhorrent stench. Sickness and bodily fluids clouded the air. Familiar stenches that set her stomach ill. Looking up, Lauren was shocked to see Alivia standing amongst the sick. She would never catch Evony here, nor Hale. The royalty in the lands she knew kept away from the sick as though they were all infectious. 

Lauren found something akin to respect growing for the woman. 

The queen turned, her brown dress moving with her as she looked to the two of them. When her eyes fell to Lauren, she nodded. “Good, you are here. You can heal these people.” Lauren looked past her to the people on the floor, lying out with covers over them. 

A priestess, different to the one Lauren had met, tended to them, praying over their bodies and murmuring a blessing with a silver necklace strewn with different pendants Lauren couldn’t work out. The sick were ashen, the ones awake had yellow eyes, coughing blood into their hands, the covers or handkerchiefs. 

“What happened?” 

“Noxious gas. It was pushed with the winds, through to our people. Hundreds died. These,” she cast a hand to the twelve soldiers, “are all that’s left.” 

“Why should I heal them?” 

“Are you not a healer?” the woman demanded. “Are there lives nothing to your own because they had the misfortune to be on the other side of your battlefield?” 

Lauren swallowed, looking to the men and women. “I’ll heal them,” she agreed. “If you let Dyson go.” 

“No. If we let him go, hundreds more will die,” Tamsin cut in. “Ask for something smaller, witch. Ask for something that is worth twelve lives.” 

“A favor then.” She looked up the queen, “I ask for you to inform the queen you’re holding me captive.” 

“Not your king?” 

Lauren adverted her eyes. Hale was her sovereign, but it was Evony who needed her. “The queen,” she confirmed, lifting her eyes to the Gredithian woman. “Please.” 

“I will do as you ask once you’ve saved these people.” 

“Before.” 

“ _After_ , or I will have your magic bound by Tamsin. It a courtesy I ask and a courtesy that allows you this request. Do not test me.” 

Lauren’s hands squeezed into fists, the air crackling. Tamsin tensed, ready to attack when Lauren nodded, moving forward to heal the victims. “You swear you will tell her.” 

“I swear it.” 

Shutting her eyes, the battle witch felt the air. Her eyes snapped open, violet and dangerous to see the poison. A potion had caused it, the trade mark familiar but unknown. By the potency, she assumed it was a witch’s, perhaps a warlock’s. At the least, someone experience had designed and travelled far and wide for the ingredients needed. 

“It’s green,” she told them, “but it’s dark. Very dark.” 

“It’s killing my people! I’m aware that it’s dark magic.” 

“Dark doesn’t mean evil in my land, it means powerful.” Breathing in, she closed her eyes from second sight and turned to the Gredithian Queen. “It clings to their lungs. In causing death, someone has ensured that their own people will live. Choosing who lives and dies is very powerful, controlled magic.” 

“It’s from your lands.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s cheating.” 

“It’s fair. You have a dragon, don’t you?” The Queen glared, her arms crossing. “In war you use whatever resources you can. Keeping people alive requires equal trade. The hundreds that died may have ensured thousands for us, or,” Lauren said, looking to Tamsin, “it may have ensured one life.” 

“You.” 

Lauren laughed. “I’m of little importance. I hardly think Evony values me more than any of her other lovers.” She smiled then, looking to the soldiers. Lauren doubted Evony was doing anything except saving herself. Ensuring her own victory in small ways. “Undoing the enchantment is easy, but dangerous. Please don’t touch me.” 

“Magic in our land is different to yours. We do not conjure spells as you do.” 

“I saw,” Lauren said. 

“Save these people,” Alivia said, her voice hardening as she looked to them. “And we will talk about your favor.” Lauren watched her leave, the dress trailing after her. 

“What does she mean by-” 

“Every second is vital,” Tamsin snapped. “These people could die as you blather on about what the queen may or may not mean!” 

Lauren glared, biting back her anger. Tamsin was right. Damn her. 

Stepping forward she shut her eyes, raising her hands. Magic jumped from one hand to the other in an electrical shock. Shaking her hands, she tried again. The shock was stronger, but faded. Brow furrowing, she tried harder. This time, the magic only sparked, fading into the ground. “Come on!” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Lauren turned, swallowing back her fears. “I need...dust. The magic I used to heal Dyson was too much.” She dropped her hands, swallowing. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.” 

Tamsin turned furious, stepping forward to grab Lauren. At the touch, Lauren shivered, tickled oddly by the sensation. Tamsin’s hands recoiled sharply from the sparks, staring down at her hands. “What’s wrong?” 

“I damaged myself,” Lauren said. “I tried to use more magic than I had. The…” she shook her head, laughing bitterly. “The ability I have to spindle magic is damaged. If I had dust, I could heal it.” 

“Isn’t dust a drug.” 

“For some, yes. It can expand the ability, add magic. I used up more than I had. There’s no magic in me.” 

“I just saw it! You were using second sight!” 

“Second sight isn’t from spindled magic. Anyone can put their feet in their ground and learn to tap into the etherworld.” A soldier coughed at Tamsin’s feet, rolling to her side as blood spluttered from her. The priestess rushed forward, cleaning the blood with a murmured prayer. 

“We lost six while you were unconscious. Alivia was furious,” Tamsin told her. “You need to heal them.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Spindle magic! Pull it from the earth, whatever you need to do, do it!” 

“You don’t get it!” Lauren yelled, “I can’t!” 

“We don’t carry dust. We don’t grow it, that’s why we’re giving it to Maelthran kingdom.” 

Lauren blinked, looking at her. “If you win these lands, you’re giving the dust to-” 

“Does it matter? That won’t heal these people. They don’t have the time to find some mine and- and what ever you people to do to get dust!” Lauren flinched at the venom, looking to the people. Tamsin was right. “Find a way.” 

“You didn’t exactly rush me over.” 

“Find a way,” she hissed, “or I’ll wait until you heal and drive you insane with your mind fluctuating, unable to rid of the build up you’ve spun.” 

“I can’t use my magic,” Lauren repeated. 

“Then use someone else’s. Take it from the earth-” 

“There’s not enough.” 

“Take it from blood then.” Lauren tensed, hissing in a breath. Tamsin watched her curious, stepping forward. “You can do that, can’t you?” 

“It’s forbidden. It’s... _repulsive._ ” 

“I don’t care what your silly beliefs are. If you can do it, you will. Save them,” she pointed to the people. “They died shamefully. They didn’t battle, they didn’t fight their target. They were poisoned by _your_ queen. You will save them.” 

“I won’t kill anyone. I refuse to take a life. But.” She swallowed, looking at Tamsin carefully. “I could use Alivia’s blood.” 

“Out of the question.” 

“She’s royal, the energy, the belief in her abilities gives her more potency for magic.” 

“Alivia’s not…she’s not _royal_. We don’t have royalty. She’s a jarl.” 

“The belief in her is equal to a queen. People listen to her, _you_ listen to her. That…essence, those emotions you feel pour into blood like magic. It makes her blood stronger. Belief is a powerful thing!” 

“And what of me? Am I not believed in for my battle?” 

Lauren’s mouth opened, before shutting again. “I...you _might_ work.” 

“Then it is my blood you will use, not Alivia’s.” 

“You’re a fool,” Lauren said. Tamsin didn’t listen, pulling out her ebony dagger and handing it to Lauren. “I could kill you and run,” Lauren warned. 

“Hardly,” she snorted. “I could kill you before you had the chance. What else do you need?” 

“You realize that I’m drinking your blood. Taking it into my body to spindle.” 

Tamsin sighed, her shoulders falling beneath her scale armor. “No one ever tries giving me flower and poetry. It’s always blood sacrifices and weapons.” She smiled at Lauren, pulling her hair to one side as she undid her armor. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You’ll need an artery, right? There’s one in the neck.” 

“An arm would work fine.” 

Tamsin raised an eyebrow. “Would it work better or worse?” 

The battle witched fumbled, before giving in. “The neck _would_ be more proficient.” 

“Problem solved, then.” She reached forward, grabbing Lauren’s wrist and tugging her closer. Lifting the hand up, she pressed the dagger to her neck. “Can you do it?” She asked. 

Lauren stared into Tamsin’s eyes, taking a breath. “I don’t like blood magic.” 

Tamsin smiled at her. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?” 

Lauren laughed, then prepared herself, tensing as she hesitated. With a look from Tamsin, she pressed the knife hard against the skin and cut. The dagger dropped and Lauren pushed forward, placing her lips over the wound. _This_ was disgusting, this was nothing she wanted. Taking someone’s life-force was… 

Her eyes closed, heart beating as she drank. The blood poured down her throat and sparked. Magic spindling in her mind, almost more than she could bear. Pulling away, she felt the magic rush from her and wrap around the wound, stitching is close and healing it. 

Then, she shut her eyes. Lightning jumped from her hands, her ears pounding with the drums she heard earlier. As the shock sprang from her into the bodies and cast the curse out from their lungs, Lauren could swear she heard vocals singing. The ritual around her as she grounded herself into the earth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pendant I had in mind was this:
> 
>    
> 


	5. Witch Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you can’t fight for the kingdoms, Bo. Fight for Kenzi.”

Ciara opened her eyes. The red flickered, blurred before she her eyes focused on the flame. She could see the silver lid over the jar, trapping the fire inside. She knew there were holes in the top, allowing oxygen to feed to light. The magic. 

“Hey.” Ciara blinked at the voice, rolling her head to look up. The woman’s features shifted, strange before she saw the familiar smile. 

“Bo?” her throat crackled at the name. Smiling, she reached up to touch her face. Pain shuddered through her arm, stunning her before she dropped it helpless against her body. Ciara’s eyes squeezed shut, breaths shortening as she willed for the painful throbs to disappear. 

“Ciara?” 

“Okay,” she nodded, opening her eyes again. Bo looked down at her, brow furrowed over glistening eyes. “Hello.” 

“You were attacked, remember?” 

Ciara looked away, taking a breath as the images washed over her. The arrow, the archer, and Bo. Bo who couldn’t heal. Bo who’s magic laid with manipulation and destruction. “You...burnt...me.” Her tongue fumbled over the sentence, hissing in pain. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” Bo reached for the water skin, pressing it to Ciara’s lips, “here, you need to drink.” It took a moment for Ciara to realize that her head was resting in the elf’s lap. Bo seemed to have cradled her there for however long she’d been out for. “How long?” she asked, coughing as the water was placed down beside her. 

“A few days.” 

“The...drag…n” 

“I know. I couldn’t leave you.” 

“Have to.” Her throat was raw, eyes bleary. Gods, she just wanted to sleep. 

“I can’t leave you here, you’ll die.” 

Ciara smiled, touched by the words. “More will if-” 

“Well I don’t care,” Bo snapped back childishly, sticking out her bottom lip. 

Ciara looked her, wanting to chuckle as saw the stubborn expression. Bo was nothing if petulant in these moments. _Yes you do_ , she thought fondly. _You care more than anyone else about what happens to us all._ “Bo,” was all Ciara managed, but the name carried weight. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said softly. “I won’t. _Please_.” 

Ciara reached with her good hand, to Bo’s. Lifting it, she carefully placed it on her damaged shoulder. “Think of the earth,” she told her, voice crackling. “Of...skin. Grow.” She shut her eyes, sending a shock through Bo’s hand to her skin. Her jaw clenched at the shock before she relaxed into the spell woven between them. It wasn’t difficult, a simple spell, but it bound the wound. 

Easily, she breathed out, smiling. “Did you…?” Bo asked. 

“Iron,” Ciara murmured. “It will…” she cough, clearing her throat before smiling, “take time.” 

“I know. I...I tried to find something, but there’s no honey, Ciara. There’s no honey and I couldn’t find any bees or flowers or… anything. I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry, Ciara.” 

Ciara chuckled then, turning her head away as she shut her eyes. “S all good. Will...” she laughed, regretting it as she slapped her hand lazily over Bo skin. “Will just...heal...slow.” Bo pulled her closer, careful to not disturb the wound. “You. Have to…” 

“I will, but not until you’re well.” 

“No,” she murmured. “They’ll...burn.” 

“I know, I know. But…” she let out a sigh. She needed to know Ciara was okay. She’d spent days holding her, looking after her. The woman pulled away now, still in pain, but already Bo could see an improvement. 

Handing her the water, she moved beside her, dragging fingers through Ciara’s hair fondly. “Please don’t make me go.” 

Ciara looked at her, taking the water with shaking hands. Carefully, Bo helped her. After she had drank, she pressed her head against the elf’s legs. Taking a breath. Time was short. She might want Bo to stay, but there were more important things. Lives, kingdoms, war. They all depended on this. “There’s a dragon, Bo.” 

“You need to heal.” 

“I will. I can do it.” 

“I need to make sure you’re-” 

“Give me the dust. You can go off, return to camp and I’ll stay here. When I heal, I…” she breathed out, touching the wound softly. She was out of magic, Bo wasn’t. Bo would never be out of magic. Where she spindled the magic through her, Bo created it naturally, like a gland. There was of course, a down time. But not like her. “I will return. I promise.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Bo whispered. “You’ll go off to find the dragon, I _know_ it. I can’t let you. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to.” 

“Bo.” 

“No.” 

“ _Bo_.” 

“No.” 

She paused, looking up at her. This time, she just lightly touched the woman’s hand. Smiling. “Bo…” That did it. 

The woman shook her head, jaw clenching. Ciara watched her blink, the eyelashes become wet with sparkling drops before she looked away. She could feel her own throat swelling up in reaction to Bo’s despair. “Fine,” she spat, shaking her head. “But tomorrow. Please, just...let me go tomorrow.” 

“Swear it.” 

“I-” 

“ _Swear_ it,” she urged. Coughing viciously, Ciara curled up around herself. The iron was still rotting her insides. Before Bo could comfort her, Ciara glared up at her, demanding an answer. She didn’t want to be rude, to hurt her, but this was more important that the both of them. 

“I...I swear it.” Bo nodded, her throat catching. Ciara nodded, lying her self down on the ground. “Ciara…?” 

“Sleep,” she said. Then, as Bo shuffled awkwardly, she turned her head and smiled at her. “You too.” 

Bo nodded, biting her lip before she moved to lie down beside her. Her hand slid over the woman’s waist, forehead pressed against the side of her Ciara’s shoulder. She tried not to cling, to pull her too close, but if she did, Ciara didn’t say so. The touch was warm, comforting. Elves, Ciara noted, always seem to runner warmer than their fae brethren. 

Bo’s breath brushed against her bare arm, shaking as she admitted, “I’m scared.” The words nearly teared Ciara apart. 

Settling her hand over Bo’s, she shut her eyes and focused her emotions. Bo was the strongest person she knew, if she was afraid... Tightening her hand briefly before her weakened muscles relaxed, she forced her own voice to be steady. “It’ll be okay,” she promised. Bo laughed, hearing the lie. 

“No it won’t.” 

“No it won’t,” she agreed. “We’re at war. We swore an oath.” 

“I didn’t!” Bo sat up, hovering over her, “I’m here as a favor. I don’t have a kingdom, Ciara. I don’t belong here. I should just leave and take you-” 

“Kenzi.” 

Bo stopped, settling. The word tasted horrible in her mouth as she remembered her best friend. Kenzi. Kenzi who was sitting back in a castle, pouring over books and probably frustrated more than anyone else because she wasn’t allowed to fight. Kenzi who would find a way, someway, somehow, because that’s who she was, who she always would be. And if she had to threaten some mage to teach her, she would. 

Kenzi. The reason she was here in the first place. 

“If you can’t fight for the kingdoms, Bo. Fight for Kenzi.” 

Yeah. That’s what she’d been trying to do. It didn’t seem fair to choose between Ciara and Kenzi, and the fairy knew it. She knew who Bo would choose. Everyone did. 

Bo left in the morning. There was no kiss this time, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She grabbed her supplies, left the dust beside Ciara and left. Outside it was cold. Dew was melting over the grass as her breath came out frosted and her skin tingled from the barrier. 

She had a long walk ahead. She really should learn that teleportation spell. It wasn’t even that difficult, but teleporting had always been one of those ‘get around to it’ spells. 

Lifting her hand, she lit a ball of elf light. The silver sphere, made up of magic, flew into the air and hurdled into the direction of the camp. Within a matter of minutes it would break up in front of Hale and re-tell the message. She couldn’t go and tell them _dragon_ , any spy could hear it. She had to send a coded message. 

Plus, she didn’t trust the queen. There was something about Evony that made the hair on the back of Bo’s neck rise and she was sure it wasn’t due to Evony’s _methods_. 

Light flashed moments before the ground shook. Then, a loud rumble could be heard. Bo looked to where the explosion had happened and grimaced. Something was happening over behind the forest. It was far away, but close enough that Bo felt the aftershock. 

Magical explosion. She needed Lauren, Lauren knew all about those things. And Ciara. Maybe she should go back to Ciara. 

Bo turned, preparing to return when a witch light fell in front of her face. Grabbing it, she felt it explode in her hands as the magic unwound up her arms. “ _Return now. Leave Ciara._ ”Hale’s warlock-messenger spoke. Bo cast a look back to their hovel, where the flowers stood marking the area and then turned away. 

Something was happening. Something big. 


End file.
